


Two Dinner Plates

by AdrianaintheSnow



Series: Labeled [4]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mentions of restricting access to food as a punishment, Misunderstandings, Past Child Abuse, Superhero AU (but it doesn't really matter for this one), unhealthy view of family dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:21:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22533172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdrianaintheSnow/pseuds/AdrianaintheSnow
Summary: A muscle ticked in Logan’s jaw and Virgil tried not to flinch. “We seem to be coming from fundamentally different philosophies on how food should be distributed in a family structure.”In which we finally actually talk about Virgil’s thing™ with food. It goes about how one would expect it to.This is a one-shot dealing with events set after my story Sometimes Labels Fail.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, Background Logicality
Series: Labeled [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1616662
Comments: 65
Kudos: 675





	Two Dinner Plates

Virgil had just finished writing up the last answer on his world history assignment. He figured he’d probably be better off looking over it later instead of right now since he’d been staring at it for a couple of hours at this point, and it wasn’t due until next week anyway. The song he was listening to in one ear (the other earbud was out so he could hear Logan moving around cooking dinner) changed as he contemplated if he should bother getting out his biology textbook.

Logan made the decision for him when he spoke up. “Virgil, will you set the table for me?” he asked. Virgil took the earbud out and slid his textbook off the table into his backpack while he stood. Logan reached to grab plates from the cabinet over the stove. When Virgil walked over to him, Logan handed him two plates. Oh.

Okay. That was fine. It was fine. Virgil knew how to handle this. He’d prepared for this, taking precautionary actions even while he’d felt himself slipping into too comfortable of a demeanor with them. He had plenty of food hidden in multiple places in his room as well as in a few other strategic locations in the house. Logan and Patton were ridiculously easy to steal from. They’d never noticed him sneaking the energy bars and little packs of chips from the pantry; Virgil was good at picking up when adults were suspicious about such things. He’d even been bold enough to sneak some canned goods, mostly corn, because he knew neither adult was particularly fond of canned corn and their stash was just for recipes. There’d even been a forgotten can of sardines in the back of the cabinet in the basement he’d managed to snag. (He felt a bit bad about it, but he’d felt a bit bad about the bank robberies too, and that had never stopped him.)

So, he’d be fine.

He did wonder what he’d done though. He couldn’t think of anything he’d screwed up recently. He was even passing his classes this semester thanks to Logan’s help with math, Patton’s help with biology, and them teaming up to help with history. He wondered if Logan would tell him what he’d done wrong or if he’d at least tell Virgil how long this would last; it was much easier to ration when he knew how long it would last. Or maybe he wouldn’t tell Virgil, and Virgil had to figure out why he was being punished and apologize for it to end. God, he hoped that wasn’t the case because he really didn’t know what he’d done.

He calmly grabbed two sets of silverware from the drawer and began to set the table all while casting his mind back through the last few days to try to think of something he’d done and trying to ignore the discomfort in his stomach that was not yet from hunger. Everything had been normal the past few days; he’d gone to school, done his homework, practiced his clarinet during the designated times, watched one movie with Patton, and had at least pretended to go to sleep on time every night. He’d thought he’d been being good.

“What do you want to drink?” Logan asked him.

Virgil bit his lip. “Can I have milk?” he asked.

There was a pause and Virgil worried he’d overstepped with that. Milk was sort of cheating after all. “Sure?” Logan said and Virgil relaxed marginally. It sounded like he was just confused because Virgil had never wanted to drink milk before.

Logan poured himself a glass of juice and Virgil a glass of milk before setting them on the table. He went back and grabbed a bowl of spaghetti and a plate of garlic bread.

Virgil was confused because Patton usually didn’t get home for another 30 minutes on Thursdays and the food would probably get cold before then. “Aren’t you going to wait for Patton?” he asked.

“Patton has to work late tonight,” Logan said. “Remember?”

Virgil felt like he was in a car and the driver had just taken a sudden, sharp left turn. Right. Right, he’d been told that. Shit. “Right,” Virgil replied, his voice shakier than he wanted it to be. He mentally scrambled to try to get his brain back on the right track.

Dammit, Logan was already looking at him curiously. “So… dinner?” he asked.

“Uh, yeah,” Virgil said. He slowly made his way over to the plate he’d set in Patton’s usual place, unable to keep his eyes from tracking Logan, making sure he didn’t react negatively to the move. If Logan thought it was odd that he’d set the plate there instead of in front of Virgil’s usual chair, he didn’t mention it. It probably made sense for Virgil to sit across from him anyway if it was just going to be the two of them. Just like it made sense for Logan to only get two plates.

Virgil folded his hands in his lap and chewed his lip while Logan took a portion of the spaghetti for himself and then offered him the bowl. Virgil took it, unable to release the stiffness in his frame even though he knew he was being stupid. This was no different than any other night. Virgil had misinterpreted the situation, but that did not mean that he had to be weird about it now. He still couldn’t help but glance at Logan’s face every few seconds to make sure no anger appeared there. He didn’t even relax when Logan saw him looking once and shot him a small smile.

His brain was misfiring, telling him things over and over even though Virgil knew they made no sense. This was a trick. This was a test. He’s going to be even angrier now.

He wasn’t angry to begin with.

It’s a _trick._

He sat down the serving bowl and waited until Logan had looked away to snatch a piece of garlic bread as though he wouldn’t notice it missing if he didn’t see Virgil reach for it.

Virgil looked down at his full plate and felt his stomach twist. Dammit, even if it ended up that he was actually being allowed to eat, he didn’t know how much he could stomach right now.

He was. He was being allowed to eat.

He needed to get it together.

He reached for his glass, hoping liquid would wash down the bile steadily climbing up his throat. He grimaced at the taste. Right. Great. Now he had to pretend like he enjoyed drinking plain milk.

The taste of milk on his tongue drove him to pick up the piece of garlic bread, his eyes on Logan the whole time and his muscles tensed to bolt. He took a small nibble.

Logan watched him set the bread back down with barely a bite out of it. “You’re acting strangely.” Virgil’s shoulders curled in and Logan’s eyes cataloged the movement. “Why?”

“I-I’m not,” he tried.

Logan titled his head to the side. “You’re going to make me figure it out for myself.” It did not sound like a question. He sat down his fork to stare at Virgil intently and Virgil’s shoulders almost hit his ears. He felt like he was one of the equations on Logan’s whiteboard that he’d sit and stare at for hours at a time in his office.

“You were fine before dinner,” Logan noted. “Unless you ran into an issue with one of the last few questions on your assignment, it likely wasn’t that. Seeing as it was world history, you’ve just began a new unit, and the assignment is not due for another week, I highly doubt you ran into anything that would upset you. So, it is something about dinner. I know for a fact you do not dislike the contents of the meal I made, therefor there is another cause.”

“I feel sick to my stomach,” Virgil interjected weakly, hoping to interrupt his train of thought which seemed worryingly on the right track.

“You have not exhibited the correct body language for that to be the only cause. Besides, you likely would have informed me of that at the beginning of the query instead of interjecting now. The interjection itself tells me you don’t want me to know the reason for your odd behavior and it isn’t that you are simply unable to articulate it. You are trying to distract me. Considering we have been in the same room this entire time and you have done nothing that could make you fear my ire, the only conclusion is that it is something I did or said to you.”

Virgil both wished Patton was here and was glad he wasn’t. On one hand, Patton would have cut off Logan’s thorough deconstruction of Virgil’s behavior and psyche. On the other, Virgil totally would have been already made by now if he were here.

“The actions I have performed in the last twenty minutes,” Logan continued, “are cook food, ask you to set the table, inquire after your drink order, bring the food and drinks to the table, serve myself food, and offer you food.” He thought for a moment. “You were already exhibiting uncharacteristic behavior when I took your drink order as you have never asked for milk in the time you have lived here, and you seem to have a distaste for it considering your expression upon consuming it. Therefore, the catalyst was something that took place before that action. We had few interactions while I prepared dinner as you were listening to music. Thus, it likely stems from me asking you to set the table. This is, of course, an interaction that has happened multiple times in the past without the same reaction. The only different variable today was the number of plates, but that should not have been an issue as it was just in reaction to the number of people who would be eating.”

Virgil did his best not to react. Logan paused again and Virgil could almost see his thoughts running through his eyes like he was a computer running a diagnostic program.

“But,” he continued, “you inquired after Patton’s whereabouts which means you did not recall that Patton was not going to be here for dinner. Oh… I see.”

Virgil bit down on the inside of his cheek. Fuck Logan, honestly. When Virgil looked up, Logan was watching him. He at least didn’t look angry.

“Is this the reason you store nonperishables in your room?” he asked softly.

Virgil flinched back violently. “You know about that?” he asked.

Logan steepled his fingers and looked at him over them. “Virgil, I could find a filed receipt from a restaurant I visited in the 1990s within ten minutes. I do notice when food I buy vanishes from my kitchen.”

Virgil felt tears gather in his eyes and shrank back in his seat. “I’m sorry,” he gasped. “I’m sorry, I-” He slammed his mouth shut when Logan raised a hand.

“I’m not angry at you; I am simply stating a fact.”

“But I _stole_ from you.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did. I’ve been stealing food since I got here.”

“You are welcome to any food in this house at any time.”

“But I didn’t pay for any of it or earn it, and you certainly didn’t give it to me.”

A muscle ticked in Logan’s jaw and Virgil tried not to flinch. “We seem to be coming from fundamentally different philosophies on how food should be distributed in a family structure. So, let me make myself clear. You don’t earn the right to eat in this house. You can eat whatever you want whenever you like without permission from Patton or me. It is not something you have to do anything for, and it is not something that will be taken away as a punishment.”

“That… but why?” Virgil had never enjoyed such punishments, but he was also intimately aware of how effective of a parenting technique it could be. Why would someone take something that could so easily get Virgil to bend to their will off the table?

“Because you are a 15-year-old-child,” Logan said as though that explained it somehow and did not just provide a counterpoint. “Even if I did not have the legal responsibility to feed you as your guardian, I’d still have a moral one.” Then, he picked his fork back up and started to eat again as though that was the end of the discussion, and since Virgil could not think of anything to say to that, he guessed it was.

It took him a few minutes to finally start to eat. It was a little easier to force the food into his mouth now even though it still felt like someone had flipped his stomach inside out and shook it a few times before straightening it back out and returning it to its original place. He managed a few bites and took a small sip of milk.

Logan stood abruptly and Virgil froze. “Juice or water?”

“What?” Virgil asked.

“Juice or water or I’m bringing both.”

Virgil looked down. “Juice.” He nodded and walked to the refrigerator to grab the juice and fill another glass.

“Thanks,” Virgil said softly when it was set in front of him.

He hummed in acknowledgement as he sat back down and started tapping his fingers on the tabletop like he always did when he was thinking about something. Virgil looked up at him warily. “Would it make you more comfortable to have a small refrigerator in your room?” he asked. “I know it may not feel as secure for the person you fear will take it away to know the location of your food, but it would allow you to store more of a variety. We could give you containers of leftovers from dinners and get you a microwave to warm them up in.”

Virgil stared at him for a moment, startled. “Why would you do that?” Why would he give up that sort of control over Virgil?

“I assumed it would take some stress off of you if we couldn’t always see when you ate something, and any food in your room would be clearly designated as your own. Of course, you’d still be welcome to anything in the kitchen at any point.”

“I…”

“Would you want that?”

Virgil averted his eyes. “Maybe.”

“We will go shopping for something this weekend then,” he concluded with no room for argument in his tone.

“You really don’t have to,” Virgil said quietly anyway.

“I am aware,” he assured. “Patton will try to get you an oddly colored or shaped one, so be prepared to resist that.”

Virgil laughed at that and some of the discomfort in his stomach eased enough for him to finish the food on his plate. Over the course of the meal, they managed to ease out of the silence and talk about normal things like Logan’s students and Virgil’s classes.

By the time he was helping wash the dishes, Virgil didn’t feel like he might startle out of his own skin.

“You bought me a sandwich once,” Virgil blurted when Logan handed him the last dish to dry. “As Bluebird before we met… at least for real. I was kinda more of a mess than usual and you bought me a sandwich, probably because I looked like a homeless kid with how dirty I was. So, thanks for that. It’s kinda why I started following you around a bit.”

Logan looked at him surprise. “I…” he said. “I had assumed that was due to us working together at the school.”

Virgil shook his head. “I already knew Bluebird was a hero who’d save a bunch of kids if they were in danger, but I hadn’t known he’d be willing to help someone like me.”

“Oh Virgil,” he said with a sigh. Then his face twisted up. “You got shot for a sandwich?”

Virgil laughed. “Yeah, sorta.”

“Patton is going to attempt to feed you so many things when I tell him this.”

“We could just not tell him.”

“I don’t keep secrets from Patton. I will just have to remind him that vegetables are needed for a healthy diet. Honestly, I know he isn’t a nutritionist, but you’d think he’d have picked that up in all of his years in medical school…”

Virgil smiled as he listened to him continue to rant about proper nutrition until Patton got back much later in the evening.


End file.
